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“It’s not too late,” she said softly. “It’s never too late.”
    Those dark eyes went soft—but only for a split second. And then they were cool and watchful again. “You’re an optimist.”
    â€œAnd proud of it.” She picked up the leather-bound menu and set it back down without opening it. “It matters, Connor. That you care about your son, that you show him you care. And I admire you for figuring out that you need to spend time with him, no matter how long it took you to realize that.”
    His gaze was locked hard on hers. “I didn’t figure it out. Not by myself, anyway. If my ex-wife hadn’t demanded that I take him for the summer, I wouldn’t have.”
    â€œBut you did take him. You could have simply refused.”
    He almost smiled. “You insist on making me seem a better man than I am.”
    â€œHey.” She raised her glass to him. “Gives you something to live up to.”
    He did smile then. And he picked up his menu and opened it to study the offerings within. She opened hers, too.
    The waiter appeared when they set their menus down again. They ordered. Connor asked for a bottle of cabernet to go with the meal.
    The wine steward hustled over to confer with Connor. Once the choice was made, the wine had to be tasted. Connor nodded his approval. The waiter served them each a glass. He left the bottle, wrapped in a white cloth, within easy reach.
    The food came—appetizers, salads and then the main course. Connor had prime rib, she had the trout. Tori found it all delicious, every last bite. If the quality was going downhill, she couldn’t tell.
    He asked her about her childhood. She told him of her mother’s early death and her father’s extended depression following the loss.
    â€œMust have been a hard time.”
    â€œIt was. But we got through it.” She spoke of her half brothers and her stepmother. “My dad’s happy now. It all worked out.”
    â€œWhat does your dad do?”
    â€œHe’s a psychiatrist in Denver. Nowadays he does a lot of pro bono work, helping people deal with grief after the loss of a loved one.”
    â€œHe would be the one to understand what they’re going through, huh?”
    â€œYes. He understands.”
    â€œYou admire him.”
    â€œI do. Very much.”
    â€œYou were raised in…?”
    â€œDenver, mostly. I moved here about three years ago.”
    â€œAnd you love it.”
    â€œYep. I plan to live in Thunder Canyon till I’m old and gray.”
    Eventually, the talk got back around to CJ. He said, “My brother-in-law wants CJ to go to work part-time at the Hopping H.”
    â€œDoing…?”
    â€œWhatever’s needed. Dishes. Clearing tables after meals, feeding livestock.”
    â€œYou sound reluctant.”
    â€œI have been, yeah. But lately I’m thinking maybe a job would be a good thing, a way to make sure CJ has a little structure, you know?”
    â€œI think it’s a great idea. Teaches him responsibility, gives him a schedule he has to keep. And a little extra pocket change. What’s not to like?”
    â€œWell, when you put it that way…” His eyes were soft again. Was that admiration she saw in them? Maybe so, because then he said, “I like the way you dress. In bright colors. Kind of…fun.” The way he said fun made her absolutely certain that there hadn’t been a lot of that in his life.
    â€œI like things bright,” she said. “And cheerful.”
    â€œAnd optimistic.”
    â€œYep. That, too.” She wondered about his ex-wife,about what had happened between them that it didn’t work out.
    But no way was she asking about the ex on a first date. She’d been out with enough men to know the red flags, and a guy talking too much about his ex when a woman hardly knew him was definitely a bad sign. Usually that meant he wasn’t over